


Race for Freedom

by rakketyrivertam



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Auggie Cahnay is an Asshole, Bets & Wagers, Canon Compliant?, Crack-ish, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: S2E42 Trans-Europe Express, Public Humiliation, Racing, Self-Insert, mentioned squirrel dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21878524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rakketyrivertam/pseuds/rakketyrivertam
Summary: Prowl reassigns Debris to Earth. It's that... or lose another creation.
Relationships: Prowl & Bluestreak
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Race for Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> This one's basically 20% G1 cartoon, 80% my own brain being like that. Anyways, I did not like how that racer earned any respect from the Autobots after the way he treated them, so here's a fate more suiting his deeds.
> 
> Astra is my self-insert, and once again, this is something written for fun while I work around another fic I'm stuck on. No criticism, please, even if you think it's constructive.

“You owe me a car,” Cahnay snarled. “You’re the reason my last one was destroyed, so I say one of you should take the job, and I want Bluestreak.”

Prowl held his creation close, staring at Optimus in horror but prohibited from objecting by deep, deep coding.

The Prime himself looked on the verge of agreeing, if only to get rid of the human. He glanced back at Bluestreak, who was shaking in his creator’s arms, and then at Prowl. He sighed, the great, monumental heave of vents that meant he was about to make a decision he hated.

“How about this,” Astra said, interrupting Optimus before he could say a word. “We’ll decide it with a race. You and Bluestreak race together just this once. If you win, he helps you until you’ve earned the winnings equivalent to the fair market value of your last car, no longer than that. If any Autobot wins, you’re on your own and you leave the track with nothing but your broken pride.”

“Deal,” Cahnay snapped, snatching up Astra’s hand to shake.

Astra nodded. “Alright, I’ll put it in writing and then we’ll get this done. Say – three days – Spirit Peaks Raceway?”

“No cheating,” Cahnay said, gripping Astra’s hand hard enough to bruise.

Astra nodded, wincing. “No cheating. No mods, no unnecessary aggression. Nothing more than the racer’s innate ability. I’ll put it in the contract and everyone will sign before the race begins.”

Cahnay nodded and stormed out.

“So,” Sparkplug said, “what’s the plan?”

Astra glared at her hand. “Summon the Debris to Earth. I am going to utterly humiliate that man.”

“The Debris?” Prowl asked. “The Wreckers are still active?”

Astra gave him a solidly unimpressed look. “Come on, time’s a-wasting.”

Confused, Prowl pulled Bluestreak along with him as Astra led the way to Teletraan’s main console. She gestured at the keyboard. “Well? You’re the one who knows Xanthium’s comm frequency.”

Immediately, Prowl got to work, putting his battling creator and enforcer protocols aside as he focused on Astra’s plan. He glanced at Blaster to make sure the connection was secure and took a series of shallow vents. “Ark to Debris, orders. Debris, confirm.”

Xanthium’s steel voice answered. “Debris to Ark, confirming. Ark, send verification code.”

“Sent.”

“... Received. A commanding officer is on the way.”

Prowl shifted on his feet, until Ultra Magnus’ face filled the screen. The two rivals glared at each other in shock before Astra cleared her throat.

Prowl shook his head. “Your crew is being reassigned to these coordinates – a planet called Earth.”

Ultra Magnus looked down to see the coordinates on another screen. “What’s the situation?”

“Our relationship with the locals varies. One has made threats toward a member of our crew over a property dispute. The situation will be resolved with a race.”

Ultra Magnus leaned back, crossing his arms. “You want Blurr to race.”

Prowl frowned. “Who?”

Astra climbed up Prowl’s leg and onto the console. “He’s a Velocitronian Autobot,” she said, smiling serenely.

Prowl looked at her in stunned awe. “You are devious.”

“I said I was going to utterly humiliate him, didn’t I?”

Prowl shook his head, chuckling.

“Who’s this?” Magnus asked.

Astra waved. “Hi, Minimus. Another local – kind of. Time traveler from an alternate dimension where you all are fiction.”

Magnus recoiled.

“Just get here as fast as possible,” Prowl ordered. “The race is scheduled for three sols from now, approximate two and three-quarters cycles.”

Astra nodded. “We’ll have an alt mode ready for Blurr, I’m thinking something that’s relatively fast on Earth, but not particularly noticeable among the rest of the Autobots like Mirage is. The rest of your troops will have to find their own. Remember, the goal is both Bluestreak’s freedom and Auggie Cahnay’s dignity.”

Magnus nodded. “According to Xanthium’s predictions, we’ll be there within two cycles at top speed.”

“See you soon, Debris,” Prowl said. “Safe travels.”

Ultra Magnus inclined his head nobly. “Until next we meet, Ark.”

The connection cut out, and Astra blew out a great gust of breath. “That stick up his exhaust port is almost as big as he is.”

Prowl raised an eyebrow.

Astra shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Teletraan, where can we find a Lamborghini Islero?”

* * *

The Debris arrived a mere six hours before the race was scheduled to start, and it took another two hours before Ratchet was satisfied with the Wreckers’ health to let them roam outside the Ark.

Blurr took to his new alt mode with ease, practicing around the mountain at what was for him a torturously slow pace.

“This human seriously tried enslaving an Autobot to him?” Springer asked once the full story had come out.

Astra nodded. “Optimus Prime was about to let him, too.” She glanced up at Prowl. “Next time we go to the island, I’m telling Soundwave. He’ll tell Megatron and then our next battle will be most interesting.”

Prowl shook his head, smiling. “I’ll delete this conversation from my memory.”

“Island? Soundwave?” Springer asked.

Astra nodded. “When I crashed here, the Decepticons found me first. Some of them aren’t that bad. I consider them family. Then I let myself get capture by the Autobots and my family grew. We have an island getaway in the Pacific, courtesy of the local indigenous tribe. It’s a neutral zone, no armaments. Arguments are settled by who does the squirrel dance better.”

Sideswipe groaned and slouched in his seat.

Springer glanced at him, confused.

Astra grinned. “He’s just mad because he can’t shake his booty as well as Skywarp.”

“I don’t understand!” Sideswipe said. “Skywarp doesn’t have a booty to shake, it should’ve been impossible for me to lose!”

“Okay, then,” Springer said. He turned back to Astra. “Count me in for the race. I’m sure I’ll be able to find a suitable alt mode in the time left.”

Astra shook her head. “Sorry, Springer, you can’t race.”

“Why not?”

“Same reason the Aerialbots, Powerglide, and Skyfire aren’t racing.” Astra gestured to the flyers across the room. “You may primarily use your ground-based alt-mode, but you have a flight mode, too, and we can’t leave Cahnay any loopholes to exploit when Blurr wins.”

“You’re a triple-changer?” Prowl asked.

Springer nodded. “Is that a problem?”

Prowl shook his head, but didn’t stop staring.

* * *

“Okay,” Astra said, clapping her hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Here’s the terms you’ll be agreeing to:   
“No mods. Each racer must race only with innate talent and skill.   
“No unnecessary aggression. Ratchet doesn’t want to have to repair anyone, and you don’t want him to have to, either.   
“Bluestreak is prohibited from purposefully under-performing to ensure an Autobot win.   
“The race is ten laps, counter-clockwise.   
“Upon a win by Auggie Cahnay, Bluestreak will serve as his personal vehicle until he has earned enough winnings from races to equal the fair market value of his last vehicle, which was destroyed in combat.   
“Upon a win by any ground-based Autobot, Mr. Cahnay will leave the track with nothing but his broken pride.   
“Any bot or human who disregards these terms will forfeit the race.”

She glanced up, making eye contact with each of the racers. “Mr. Cahnay, would you like to be the first to sign?”

Cahnay stepped up with a wicked smile, signed his name with a flourish, and turned to Bluestreak with a leer. “Ready to win?”

Prowl stroked a hand down Bluestreak’s back and pushed him forward.

Shaking, Blue transformed and opened his driver’s side door.

“Autobots, sign the contract and then transform,” Optimus Prime called.

Astra nodded gratefully to him as the other racers took their places. “Alright, on your mark, get set, and go!”

The racer’s shot off, Bluestreak so fast a noise from his engine had Ratchet grumbling in concern and Prowl’s fists clenching at his side.

“Why aren’t you racing?” Springer asked.

“Too close to the situation,” Prowl said, obviously quoting someone. “Bluestreak is my adopted creation,” he admitted. “The last thing I want is for him to be enslaved to some greedy human, but Optimus has decreed I am not to be a part of this.” He closed his eyes. “It’s not the first time I’ve been helpless as my creation has been taken from me. Hopefully, this time will turn out differently.”

“Blurr’s on his third lap,” Astra reported. “The rest are just starting their second, and his lead is only gaining.”

Prowl nodded gratefully.

Springer shifted, fanning out his rotors. “Tell me about your other creation. The one that was taken from you.”

Prowl looked over and stared at Springer. “Ostaros. His name was Ostaros. The Decepticons started hunting him, and he was reformatted and his memory wiped as a security precaution. It was not my choice.”

“Do you know where he is now?” Springer asked.

Prowl shook his head, turning back to the race. “I don’t know what his new frame is.”

“I’m sorry.”

Prowl glanced at Springer out the corner of his eye. “I appreciate that.” He paused, fidgeting. “I know he was reformatted into a triple-changer.”

“Huh,” Springer said, then did a double-take, staring at Prowl in shock.

Prowl very carefully did not meet his gaze.

“Blurr’s on lap seven,” Astra reported.

“You think I’m him,” Springer said.

Prowl shrugged. “It’s not impossible, but there is the fact that you are the first Autobot triple-changer I’ve met.”

“I’m the only one still alive,” Springer said. “And I was the first one.”

Prowl took a deep, shaky breath.

“Lap eight.” Astra winced as Cahnay made it to lap six and smoke started rising from Bluestreak’s tires. “This can’t be over fast enough.”

Prowl turned his attention back to the race.

A few seconds later, Blurr crossed the finish line for the last time and squealed to a halt.

Cahnay stomped on the breaks and climbed out of Bluestreak’s cab, slamming the door shut behind him.

Bluestreak cried out in pain as he transformed, and Ratchet and Prowl rushed to his side.

“That was blatant cheating!” Cahnay shouted, pointing a finger at Blurr.

Astra hopped over the barrier and onto the track. “Actually, it’s ‘innate talent and skill’. Blurr’s from a planet called Velocitron, with one of the highest gravities ever recorded and a culture that prides speed above everything else. He was a star racer there before the war, and here, where he isn’t being crushed by celestial forces?” She shook her head. “You never stood a chance.”

Cahnay gaped. “You tricked me!”

“You hurt my friend!” Astra bellowed. “And you signed the contract! Now strip off your clothes and leave.”

“My clothes?” Cahnay echoed, gaping.

Astra nodded. “If any ground-based Autobot wins, you leave the track with nothing but your broken pride. Strip your clothes, leave your wallet and keys and any other belongings, and never let us see you again.”

The other Autobots watched with stony expressions as the human racer complied in stunned silence.

They all watched him run off the track, and then Optimus smiled, putting his hands on Blurr and Bluestreak’s shoulders. “This is a victory. No sentient being should live in slavery to another-”

“Yeah, that’s great,” Astra said, “unless you’re going to release Prowl and Grapple and others from the indentured public servant contracts they were contructed with that make you their default owner now, shut the frell up.”

Optimus stared.

“Ratchet, take Bluestreak back to base. Prowl, Jazz, Smokescreen, go with. Bumblebee and Tracks, take the Debris crew into the city. Get them Earth alt-modes and teach them the rules of the road. Everyone else, get back on patrol or whatever other duties you were scheduled for today.”

As the Autobots mobilized, Optimus stopped Prowl with a hand on his shoulder. “Is what she says true?”

Prowl stiffened. “You were going to give my creation to that human. Before I was your vice commander, I was ordered to give up another creation. My coding prevents me from resisting.”

Optimus squeezed his shoulder. “I didn’t know. I’ll have Ratchet remove it.”

Prowl nodded. “May I go see my creation, now?”

“Of course.” Optimus let go, looking immensely disturbed. “Take as long as you’d like. Your duties will be reassigned.”

Prowl hesitated. “Not to Ultra Magnus?”

Optimus shook his head. “I never understood your rivalry, but I can respect it.”

Prowl’s doorwings twitched anxiously. “He was the one who gave the order.” With that, he hurried to Bluestreak’s side, barely stopping to nod down at Astra. “Thank you.”


End file.
